Alone Together
by sebastian2017
Summary: Greg Lestrade is just starting at Eton at sixteen with a full scholarship, the only way his family would have ever been able to afford sending him there. He doesn't expect to enjoy his time there too much, but he goes because he knows it makes his mother proud. Things turn out a bit differently than expected when he meets the prefect that's been assigned to watch over him.Teenl!ock
1. In Which They Meet and Greg is Sassy

DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything. Obviously.

Chapter 1

"Yes, Mum, of course I'll be fine." Greg assured her for what felt like the millionth time that day. Not that he blamed her for worrying. She was dropping him off at Eton and wasn't going to see him again until Winter Break. To be honest, Greg was scared as well, but if he let his mom know that, she'd probably take him back home with her.

His mother took one last look around his dorm. "Are you sure?" she asked, leaning down to smooth out his blankets one more time.

"Mum." He reached down and put her hand in both of his. "I'm fine. Don't worry." Greg said, kissing her forehead. "Now, go before the twins take advantage of your not being there and start reaping havoc all through London."

"I suppose you're right." she admitted, pulling him into one last hug. "I'm going to miss you, dear."

"I'm going to miss you too, Mum. You know I will." he murmured, hugging her back tightly. He wanted to let go no more than she did, though he didn't express it as clearly as she.

She pulled back, looking up at her eldest son with a teary smile. "You behave, all right? Be good, study, make friends. Make me proud, okay, Greg?"

"Of course, Mum." he promised, nodding. Gently, he nudged her towards the door. "You've got to go now. Or we both know you never will."

She sighed, starting to walk away. "Be sure to call, Greg." she said, casting one last glance at him before walking off towards the exit of the building.

Greg called out his affirmation after her before closing his dorm door. With an exhausted sigh, he threw himself backwards on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. He had no idea what he'd been thinking when applied to go to school here. He was sure this must have been considered some form of masochism or something.

Greg had never actually expected to be accepted into Eton, let alone with the full scholarship he needed to actually be able to afford coming. He was completely out of his comfort zone here. All the boys he'd passed on his way up to his dorm with his mother had all looked as though they were rich enough to buy his entire family. And probably still have enough pocket money left to buy out his flat as well.

Boys at Eton were rich and posh and Greg was willing to bet they were cold and self entitled as well. They couldn't get any more different from Greg and his family. His mother, a widow, had been working two jobs to support Greg and his four younger siblings ever since their father had died in Afghanistan when Greg was ten. They didn't have the most luxurious lives, but Greg didn't particularly care. They had each other and that was enough for him. He was more than sure, though, that none of the other boys here gave a damn about family and only cared about bank accounts.

He missed his mother already. He missed his brothers and his sisters. He missed his friends back home and his own bed. It was pathetic, Greg knew. He'd been gone less than a day. But he couldn't help it. Being away from them, even for a short while, was all new to him.

He was ripped away from his thoughts by a stiff knock at the door. He groaned, hopping to his feet and going to open the door. "Yeah?" he asked, leaning against the door frame and looking at the boy who had knocked. It was another student, around his age and rather official looking.

"You're Gregory Lestrade, yes?" the boy asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked him over. Greg couldn't help but feel he was being inspected or something similar.

"It's Greg, not Gregory. And yeah, I am." he nodded, crossing his arms over his chest. "Who're you?"

"Mycroft Holmes." the boy (Mycroft apparently, which Greg thought was ridiculous, honestly, who named their child Mycroft?) answered, holding his hand out. "I'm a prefect in your year. We have most of the same classes together, so the headmaster's asked me to look over you until you get settled in."

"Ah. I'm gonna follow you around like a lost puppy these first few days. Got it." he nodded, grinning at Mycroft and shaking his hand. He looked the ginger boy over as subtly as he could, silently thanking the headmaster for at the very least giving him one of the cute prefects.

Mycroft didn't seem to find it as amusing and merely pursed his lips, pulling his hand back. "Dinner starts soon. You'd best get ready." he said before striding down the hall and going into his own room.

"What? Not gonna show me the way? What if I get lost?" Greg called after him teasingly, laughing.

He could already tell he was going to have quite a lot of fun with this one. He doubted Mycroft would be interested in him, but a bit of harmless flirting wouldn't hurt. Or maybe he'd get a friend out of it. Or, at the very least, someone to annoy until Mycroft had decided he'd filled out his duties sufficiently.

Greg stepped back into his room, closing the door behind him and inspecting himself in the mirror. It still felt weird to be wearing the uniform and he always felt as though he was wearing something wrong. He was sure he'd checked his reflection more today than he did all year long. He didn't want to look like an idiot with a crooked bow tie or something. He hummed to himself as he styled his hair into place, wondering if his usual spikes would get him in trouble here. He didn't want to risk it, so he just let his hair and bangs fall down into place instead of spiking them up like he usually did. He had a feeling his usual punk rock style wasn't going to see the light of day here at Eton. It'd be fun to push at the limits and see how far he could get away with, though. About fifteen minutes before dinner time, there was another stiff knock at Greg's door and he smirked to himself as he went to open it.

**_A/N: So this chapter's pretty short, but that's because it's more of an prologue than anything, really. The other one's will be much longer. So, what do you think? Yay? Nay? Some things to know: this is teenlock, but it takes place in modern day, they're both sixteen, and while it takes place at Eton because it's a pretty Holmes-like place, I don't actually know anything about the school, so I apologize for inaccuracies. Reviews/comments would be much appreciated :) Have a good day/night!_**


	2. In Which Mycroft is a Dick

A/N: I forgot to mention that this fic is loosely based off a roleplay I have going on. So a lot of credit goes to my rp partner for inspiration and coming up with certain plot points. :)

Chapter 2

It was Mycroft at the door, just like Greg had expected. Greg didn't think it possible, but he looked even posher than he had before. His hair was slicked back now, the knot in his bowtie looked tighter, and it looked as though he'd polished his shoes, though that might have just been his imagination. Greg grinned at him as he opened the door, but Mycroft's smile in return looked painfully forced.

"Hey, mate. You look… expensive." Greg said, shoving his room key into his pocket and closing his dorm door behind him.

"And you look out of place." Mycroft commented coldly. "Are you ready?"

Greg put on an exaggerated look of hurt to hide how much it actually stung. "Ouch! I'm wounded. How could you say such a thing?"

He rolled his eyes. "I'll take that as a yes," he said, turning and started to walk down the hallway.

Greg chased after him. "Shouldn't you be giving me a tour or somethin'? Pointing out what all this shit is." He gestured to the hallways around him, which were covered in expensive paintings and a few sculptures. "I'm sure the school's got tons of history they love to boast."

"If you're really interested - which I doubt if your musical taste is anything to go by - I can tell you tomorrow as we walk to class. Right now, we're late for dinner and should really be focusing on walking there as quickly as possible." Mycroft looked over his shoulder to give him a pointed look.

Greg rolled his eyes, sarcastically remarking, "God forbid we're late to dinner. Dinner of all things. What're we gonna miss? A riveting lecture on how to properly hold your silverware? Or is the first day always used for the lessons on the history of mashed potatoes. And what could you possibly know about my musical taste?"

"I know quite a bit about you, Gregory. It's simple, really. It's written all over you." Mycroft said, leading them out of their dorm building and directing them over to a much larger building.

"So you like read up on my file or something? Hate to break it to you, mate, but that's kind of creepy." Greg said, laughing. Of course he got stuck with the cute and psycho one. Why wouldn't he?

"I didn't read anything." Mycroft shook his head. "Just you. It's quite obvious, really. As people tend to be."

He raised an eyebrow, looking over at him curiously. "Is that like… a magic trick or somethin'?"

Mycroft scoffed, shaking his head. "No. Simply science. I wouldn't expect you to understand."

"Gee, thanks." he muttered sarcastically. It seemed the boys here, at least Mycroft, were just as posh and stuck up as he expected them to be. He didn't see himself making any long term friends here, but he was sure he could have some fun at their expense.

Mycroft didn't talk much the rest of the way. Greg wasn't sure if he liked that or not. Everything Mycroft said seemed to be offensive, but he felt even more awkward just walking silently. He'd rather get insulted than just silently glared at. At least when he was being sassed, from afar it almost looked as though he had a friend. When they got to the dining hall, Mycroft held the door open for him, though Greg was pretty sure he only did that because of his public image, not because he actually cared.

"Well… Thanks for bringing me here." Greg said a bit awkwardly, tugging at the edge of his uniform jacket. "I think I can find a table on my own, thanks. You've been lots of help, Mycroft."

"I'll sit with you." Mycroft offered. "I don't think the headmaster would like it much if I left you sititng alone." He grabbed Greg by the arm and led him over to a table which was still empty. He sat down across from Greg.

At this point, Greg was starting to get more than just a little confused. It was like a good prefect, bad prefect act. "Uh… Thanks, mate. I appreciate it." He nodded gratefully, smiling at him as he served food onto his plate.

"I'm not your 'mate'." Mycroft corrected, his nose scrunching up. "I'm simply fulfilling my duties as a prefect."

"Right…" he nodded, poking at his mashed potatoes dejectedly. Back to bad prefect. Greg much preferred the good prefect act.

Mycroft didn't talk at all the rest of dinner. Not that it mattered much. Only about five minutes in, a man stepped up to the front of the dining hall. Greg noticed that the man had quite a lot of resemblance to Mycroft. That was explained when he introduced himself as Siger Holmes, the headmaster. Ah. No wonder Mycroft had cared so much about filling out his instructions perfectly. He spent nearly twenty minutes talking about what a wonderful year they were going to have, as well as going over some school rules. Greg had already spaced out by the second minute.

As the headmaster talked, Greg ate absentmindedly, daydreaming about what he would have been doing if he was back home. He snapped out of it when he heard the rest of the boys start clapping. He joined in the polite clapping, not wanting to seem rude in front of Mycroft, who was obviously related to the man in some form.

After Headmaster Holmes's speech dinner passed by rather quickly. Greg didn't mind much that Mycroft didn't talk throughout dinner. The new school was still extremely overwhelming for Greg and the silence between them gave him a chance to just think and get used to it all. When they were dismissed, Mycroft walked next to him as they returned to the dorms.

"So… Is the headmaster your father?" Greg asked, attempting to start a conversation. He liked the silence, but he wasn't sure for how much longer he would appreciate it. He was naturally social. Silence for too long unnerved him.

Mycroft nodded. "Yes. And the head of the Board of Directors is my Uncle. My family has been here for centuries."

"Wow… That's pretty impressive. I guess you're who I should be friends with if I want connections?" Greg laughed.

Mycroft scoffed, shaking his head. "I don't even get connections, and they're my family. I doubt you'd get any special treatment."

"I'm just joking. No need to get fussy." Greg said, chuckling. He had to be on his best behavior around Mycroft. He didn't want Mycroft to be reporting back to his father or something like that. But that didn't mean he couldn't have a little fun with him.

Mycroft nodded wordlessly as they continued walking. Greg had a feeling he'd be getting to the silence over the next few days. Until he made some friends, anyway. Even rich kids played football, didn't they? He'd probably meet a few boys through that.

They made it all the way to their dorm floor before Mycroft talked again. "I'm handing out schedules in the morning. But I've got yours in my room. I could give it to you, if you'd like?" he offered.

Greg nodded. "I'd really appreciate that." he said gratefully.

Mycroft nodded stiffly, going over to his room and unlocking the door. He held the door open, gesturing for Greg to go inside. Mycroft's room was the exact opposite of Greg's room. Greg had only been in his room for a few hours and he'd already managed to make a mess of his room. There were clothes which he meant to hang up scattered all over his bed, several of his posters were on the desk waiting to be hung up, and his books were all over the floor. His books were all lined up along his shelves - as far as Greg could tell, they were in alphabetical order as well-, he didn't have a single poster or decoration, and his bed was done with bloody hospital corners. It was ridiculously posh.

Mycroft went over to his desk and pulled open a drawer. He pulled out a small square of paper and passed it over to Greg. "That's your schedule. as I said before, we share all our classes. I'll stop by your dorm at 8:15 to pick you up. That works, yes?"

Greg looked it over, nodding. None of the classes looked like anything he'd detest. He could do without the math classes, of course, but nothing he couldn't handle. "Sounds good. I'll see you then. Sleep well, man. See ya in the morning."

Mycroft nodded, leading him to the door. "Good night, Gregory." he said, closing the door the second Greg stepped outside the room.

Greg chuckled, shaking his head. Mycroft was a strange one, indeed. He was already planning out how he would corrupt Mycroft. Teenagers were meant to have fun, not spend their days in neatly organized rooms with alphabetically ordered textbooks. He went back to his room, feeling at ease in the mess. It felt more like home than the rest of the school. He laid across the bed, checking his phone for any missed calls. His mother had called twice. Typical. He dialed her number, already bracing himself for the million questions.

The phone only ran twice before she picked up. "Greg! How are you, dear? Have you made any friends? Is everyone treating you well? How was dinner?"

"Mum! You have to let me answer before asking any more questions." Greg interrupted, laughing. "I'm fine. Like I told you, I'll be just fine. I haven't really made any friends, but I've only been here a few hours. I have a prefect looking out for me these first few days, so I won't get lost. And dinner was great, Mum. Don't worry. I'm not starvin' or anything."

He could hear the telltale signs of kitchen appliances in the background. No doubt she was baking, as she tended to do when she was nervous or worried. "All right, if you say so, sweetheart. Your brothers and sister miss you terribly. Keep asking when you're coming back."

Greg smiled at the thought of his younger siblings. "Tell them I miss them as well. And give them all a hug from me. Winter Break will be here before you know it." It seemed weird to already be thinking about vacation when school had barely just started, but the Lestrade family was closely knit together. They hated being away from each other.

"I'll be sure to tell them. I suppose you have to get ready for bed now." she sighed. "I'll let you go. I love you, dear. Take care."

"I love you too, Mum. I'll call you tomorrow." he promised before hanging up. He tossed his phone aside, just laying in his bed for a few minutes and wondering how his siblings were doing. He hoped one of his friends was keeping an eye on them in school. Finally, when he heard a voice yelling out in the hallway that it was lights out, he turned off his lights, got changed, and went to bed, unable to deny that he was nervous for the next day.

A/N: Well, that's that! November's going to be a bit hectic because of NaNoWriMo, but hopefully in December updates will be more regular. Mycroft's being a bit of an ass right now, but that'll change soon enough. xD So, if you have the time, I'd greatly appreciate if you left a review saying what you thought of the chapter. :) Have a good day and/or night!


	3. In Which They Become Friends

Chapter 3

Greg was startled out of his sleep by knocking at his door the next morning. He sat up with a start and stumbled out of bed, kicking the sheets off in the process. The clock on his bedside table read 7:45, which meant he still had plenty of time until breakfast at eight thirty. Greg didn't have a clue why he was surprised when he saw Mycroft standing on the other side of the door.

"There better be a good reason why you're wakin' me up so early." Greg said, his voice still raspy with sleep.

Mycroft raised an eyebrow as he looked Greg over. "You were still sleeping? At this hour? What time did you plan on waking up?"

"Eight. Woulda still had plenty of time to get ready. You were supposed to come by at a quarter past." he answered. He didn't know how Mycroft was fully articulate so early in the morning, let alone dressed in the full uniform.

"Perhaps if you wanted to look mediocre." Mycroft said, his nose wrinkling up in distaste. "I came to check if you were awake yet, not pick you up. You'll thank me later. Get dressed. I expect you to be ready in thirty minutes." With that, he walked back over to his room.

Greg rolled his eyes. What type of man needed more than fifteen minutes to get ready in the morning? Especially when he didn't even have to pick out his clothes. No point going back to sleep now, though. He pulled his uniform out of the closet, sighing in resignation as he pulled up the trousers. He made it up until the shirt and waistcoat before becoming hopelessly confused. His mother had tied his tie the day before, but now he couldn't figure it out. After trying to figure it out for a few minutes, he finally gave up, deciding he could just tie it later. He left it hanging around his neck and grabbed his jacket, deciding he'd put it on later. Greg slipped his shoes on and went outside just two minutes late.

"You're late." Mycroft frowned, looking him over. "And you're not even dressed. How did you plan on being ready in time if you'd woken up just fifteen minutes ago?"

"It wasn't me! It was this horrible invention created by posh idiots to choke their friends to death!" Greg said, gesturing to his tie with the hand that wasn't holding onto his jacket.

"You don't know how to tie a tie? Really?" he asked, giving Greg the most judgmental look he'd ever seen in his life. "You must be some sort of caveman."

Greg rolled his eyes. "You can insult me all you want later. Can you just help me out now? Please?"

Mycroft sighed, stepping closer to him and tying it for him in less than ten seconds with nimble fingers. He tugged on it after it been tied to tighten on it and stepped back to look at his work with an approving hum. "There. It's not that hard. I'll teach you this afternoon. Now, come. We're going to be late."

"Relax. We've still got…" He looked at his wrist watch. "Twelve more minutes." He was surprised Mycroft hadn't died of a heart attack by now. Greg would expect him to, at the very least, have an ulcer.

"Twelve minutes to be there. Not to leave." Mycroft corrected, pulling Greg along by his arm. As they walked down the stairs he looked over his shoulder with a frown. "Put your jacket on. You'll get in trouble for being out of uniform."

"Will it get you to stop nagging me?" Greg teased, smirking.

"I'll stop nagging you when you do things right, Gregory." he snapped, scowling. Greg could practically feel him rolling his eyes as he continued walking ahead.

Greg laughed, happy to have pushed some of Mycroft's buttons. He slipped his jacket on and chased after him, just barely missing the dorm building door slamming in his face. "There. It's on. Happy now, My?"

The look of horror on Mycroft's face at the nickname was enough to make however much nagging he'd receive worth it. "My name is Mycroft. Not My." he said.

"And mine's Greg. Not Gregory." he said, smirking cheekily. Greg absolutely loved the way it was evident on Mycroft's face that he was struggling for a good comeback.

Greg laughed, walking ahead towards where he remembered the dining hall to be. Mycroft skulked behind him, pouting rather adorably. He was still pouting when they sat down for breakfast and Greg piled eggs and potatoes onto his plate. He chuckled, leaning over and patting his shoulder.

"You look like a kicked puppy… My." he said, grinning evilly. "Was it something I said? Or is it not me, it's you?" Greg teased, holding back a laugh.

Mycroft glared halfheartedly at him. "Don't call me that, Gregory. That's no way of treating your superiors." Greg could practically see a cold mask of officialness pass over Mycroft's face and he couldn't help but frown in disappointment. He'd thought maybe he was getting through to him just a bit.

"God, Mycroft, you're giving me whiplash here." Greg said, rolling his eyes. "You either really hate me for just existing or you sort of tolerate me. It's like you're flip flopping between them. So, which is it? And don't spare my feeling's, okay? I'm a big boy. I can take it."

Mycroft raised an eyebrow. "I've no idea what you're talking about." he huffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You know damn well what I'm talking about." he said, scoffing. For an Etonian, he sure was thick. "I get that you're a prefect and you want to make your daddy proud or whatever, but could you not do that by pretending to like me? Because you're pretty terrible at it."

The other boy sighed. "Gregory, I-"

"Greg. If I'm calling you a stupid name like Mycroft, then you're calling me Greg." he said, huffing.

"My apologies. Greg, I assure you, you don't want to be friends with me. I'll show you around for a few days and then leave you be. You'll thank me for it later. Associating yourself with me would be social suicide here." Mycroft said simply, not seeming the least bit upset about it, though Greg had a feeling that was just years of practice at hiding it.

"I don't care." By now, it was more the principle of the thing than anything else. If he wanted to be Mycroft's friend he damn well would be. "I think I'm old enough to be making my own decisions of who I want to hang out with or not, don't you? Besides, according to you, you know all about me just from looking at me - I still think that's creepy, by the way. Which means by now you probably know my family's dirt poor. And if you didn't, then surprise! That alone is enough of a social suicide."

Mycroft remained quiet for a few minutes, looking down at his lap. In the short while of silence, Greg shoveled scrambled eggs into his mouth as intimidatingly as he could manage. Which wasn't much, but he tried his hardest. When Mycroft looked back up at him, he had the smallest of smiles on his face.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're horribly stubborn?" he asked.

"Oh, yeah. All the time. My mum hates it." he said, laughing. He took this as a good sign. Maybe he'd finally made progress. "We're always getting into rows over stupid things like what side of the plate to put the corn on because she's just as stubborn as I am."

"You've got to be joking." Mycroft said, snorting and then looking appalled at himself that he would make such an undignified sound.

Greg nodded, laughing. "I wish I was! It's stupid, I know. It's what families for, I guess. Love and stupid rows. You should hear some of the fights my brothers and I get into. Though I guess it's to be expected. He's Barça. I'm Madrid."

Mycrof's brow furrowed. "What do cities in Spain have to do with anything?" he asked, looking so genuinely confused that Greg nearly aww'ed out loud at the adorableness.

"It's football! They're like rival teams. You really didn't know?" Greg looked horrified as Mycroft shook his head. "Blasphemy! What sort of an English man doesn't know about football? Sorry, mate, but I've know made it my life goal to educate you on the finer pleasures of life."

"You call football the finer pleasures of life? Really?" Mycroft frowned. "God, you're more uncultured than I thought you were."

"Oh, so now you know about how cultured I am? You've just met me less than twelve hours ago." Greg scoffed, rolling his eyes.

At this point, Mycroft smirked, his blue eyes twinkling in amusement. Greg sat back and listened to Mycroft explain for a few minutes Greg's musical tastes and his hobbies. He tuned out most of the explanations, too busy gaping at Mycroft in awe to properly hear. Mycroft leaned back in his chair with a proud smirk when he finished.

"That was… oh my god. That was… Whoa." Greg's eyes widened and he started at Mycroft in disbelief. "How'd you do that? Not even my mum knows about my awkward boy band phase when I was twelve."

"Boy band phase that you refuse to admit may still continue today, hidden underneath the 'punk'." Mycroft corrected, chuckling. "And I didn't do much. I merely observed. Everyone sees but hardly anyone observes and retains information."

"Well… Wow… That's really cool. The coolest thing I can do is knot a cherry stem with my tongue." he said, shrugging. "But mind reading is way cooler."

"You can knot a cherry stem with your tongue but you can't tie a tie? That's pathetic." Mycroft teased. "And it's not mind reading. It's observing."

"Whatever you say, Mr. Mind Reader. I can't be held liable for any trauma you experience when you're looking through my head, okay?" he grinned.

"Very well. I won't blame you for any trauma I get when I'm 'reading your mind'." Mycroft promised, rolling his eyes.

They spent the rest of breakfast like that. Playfully bantering back and forth. It was pretty amazing how much they learned about each other. Greg found out Mycroft played the piano, wanted to be a politician, excelled at Oratory, and had a younger brother. Most of what Greg told Mycroft he knew, but he did find out that Greg had been playing guitar since he was six and that he wanted a motorbike when he turned seventeen - though his family would probably never be able to afford it. Mycroft asked about his father a few times, but Greg kept changing the subject until Mycroft got the message. Greg briefly noticed that Mycroft wasn't eating anything, but it was quickly forgotten in the midst of their conversation.

Close to nine, Mycroft checked his watch and started to stand up. "We should head to class or we'll be late." he warned.

Greg nodded, grabbing his bag and getting up. "What do we have first? Maths, right?"

"Yes. And then Chemistry." Mycroft said, walking them over to the door and leading them outside. "The buildings are near each other. Which is good. We're less likely to be late to Chemistry."

"Ugh, my two favorite classes back to back." he muttered sarcastically. "When's music? Or History?"

"Last two periods." he answered with an apologetic shrug. "We've got Chambers after Chemistry, though. So it's not too bad."

"That's break, right? Thank, God. I would have probably died if we had something boring like Latin right after." Greg said, sighing in relief.

Mycroft rolled his eyes, mumbling something under his breath about Greg being over dramatic as he pulled him along. Greg laughed, not minding one bit that he was being tugged along like a puppy on a leash. He was just glad that he had seemingly managed to get Mycroft to stop being so hostile against him. And if Greg noticed some of the other boys gave him strange looks for being openly friendly with the school's social pariah, he ignored it.

**A/N- All right then! Lots of exciting things in this chapter :D So, we have Greg's stubborness to thank for our wonderful Mystrade ship. xD Thank you so much for all the reviews and favorites/follows. I appreciate them all so much. I can't even begin to thank you guys enough. Love you guys! Have a good day or night or whatever it is you're having! 3 **


	4. In Which They Are Adorable

**A/N- I don't know why I haven't mentioned this before, and I'm sure it's really obvious, but I'm American so I apologize for Americanisms :P**

Chapter 4

Only two classes in, Greg found he quite enjoyed spending time with Mycroft. Whenever a teacher or another student talked to him, he became cold and distant, only focused on being as perfect as possible. When he was just talking to Greg it was different. He was still worried about being perfect, but he seemed… looser. Greg was absolutely fascinated about how he could learn so much and yet so little about one boy in just a few hours.

When break time came around, they both strolled back in the general direction of their dorms at an incredibly slow pace, not caring if they spent the entirety of their break on the walk to their next class. Mycroft talked about the weather, which Greg thought was incredibly cliche, but when he talked it was so articulate and smooth that Greg was sure he would have gladly spent hours listening to Mycroft read a dictionary.

"What do we have after this?" Greg asked once Mycroft had run out of ways to say that the sky looked beautiful that morning.

"Literature." he answered. "Do you have your books for that?"

Greg shook his head. "Just my notebooks. But it's the first day. No teacher in the existence of teachers has ever actually taught anything on the first day."

"If you say so," Mycroft said, rolling his eyes halfheartedly. "You'll need them tomorrow, though. They're in your dorm, yes?"

"Somewhere on the floor." he confirmed, nodding. If he remembered correctly, they'd been kicked underneath the bed the night before. Or maybe that had been his Latin textbook. He wasn't entirely sure.

"The floor? Dear God, Gregory, how do you keep track of things?" Mycroft asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Simple. I don't." Greg rolled his eyes. "I just kind of pray and bullshit things as they come along. It's not the best system, but it's worked for me so far. And I've told you not to call me Gregory."

Mycroft laughed, ignoring the last bit about not calling him Gregory, and spent the rest of their free time telling Greg about how much simpler things would be for him if he organized his belongings. Greg nodded, pretending to be listening, but really he was remembering the alphabetically organized books from the night before and wondering if there was anyway he'd be able to sneak into Mycroft's room and scatter the books randomly across the room. He was sure that would drive Mycroft mad.

Just as Greg had predicted, they didn't do much in Literature class. The teacher had them introduce themselves by saying their names and one of their hobbies (Greg had answered 'Greg - not Gregory - Lestrade, football' while Mycroft had said 'Mycroft Holmes, reading') before briefly going over the syllabus of the semester. It didn't take long and they wound up having fifteen minutes of downtime before being let out to lunch. During that time, Greg and Mycroft went back to talking. It was amazing how they could say so much while saying so little at the same time. Greg didn't mind, though. They'd known each other less than twelve hours. He wasn't exactly eager to start sharing his life story, either.

They sat together at lunch again, falling into a comfortable silence. Greg was almost halfway through his lunch when he noticed Mycroft's plate was still untouched. "Aren't you gonna eat?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Hmm? Oh, yes. I got distracted." he mumbled, hesitantly picking his fork up and starting to eat.

Greg shrugged it off, not thinking twice about it. Posh kid like Mycroft probably had a private chef or something at home and still wasn't used to eating school food. They were quiet again after that, eating their lunches without another word. Greg was just glad to have company. Having to be all alone was what he'd been most afraid of about changing schools. He was happy the friendless period of switching schools hadn't lasted too long.

Mycroft had finished with his lunch and gotten rid of his plate before Greg. He hadn't gotten a good luck at the plate, but he'd just assumed that he'd finished. Mycroft sat patiently and quietly as Greg finished eating, not saying a word. When he finished, he put his plates away and went back over to where they'd been sitting, picking his bag up from the ground to signal that he was finished.

Mycroft informed them that they had a fee period next, something which Greg was unbelievably grateful for. He didn't mind going to classes, but he was still a teenage boy and when given the choice between sitting around doing nothing and taking a class, he would pick the former without a second thought. They could spend the free period just about anywhere on the campus, but Mycroft told him he usually spent it in the library or his dorm room. Greg would have much rather spend it in the dorms and he told Mycroft as much, so they made their way back there.

"Do you want to come in?" Greg offered as he unlocked the door to his dorm and stepped inside.

Mycroft seemed to think it over for a few moments, looking between Greg's room and the door to his own before finally nodding. "Very well." he said, stepping inside.

Greg closed the door behind Mycroft and pulled his guitar out of his closet. "You don't mind if I practice a bit, do you?" he asked, sitting at the edge of his bed and working on retuning the strings.

Mycroft shook his head. "Of course not." He was still awkwardly standing off to the corner, arms crossed behind his back.

"You can sit down, you know?" he pointed out, smiling slightly at how awkwardly adorable Mycroft looked. "There's a chair over there. Or you can just sit on the bed next to me. Whatever you'd prefer."

"Er… I'll take the chair. Thank you, Gregory." he said, nodding as he took a seat on the chair in front of his desk.

Greg rolled his eyes, absentmindedly playing a few simple riffs to warm up his fingers. "I keep telling you. Greg. Not Gregory. Or I'll go back to calling you My." he warned, grinning mischievously.

"Sorry. Greg." he corrected himself, looking at the guitar with interest. "You're good. I guess you weren't lying when you said you've been playing for years."

Greg laughed, shaking his head. "I wouldn't lie about my precious baby." he said, smirking as he stopped playing riffs long enough to stroke the guitar neck. "Any requests? I pride myself in my guitar skills. And my football skills, of course. Don't have much aside from that."

"Well, guitar and football are no small feat." Mycroft said, shrugging. He thought the request question over a few moments. "I'm afraid I don't listen to much modern music. Would anything by the Beatles be all right?"

"More than all right." Greg assured him, starting to play the opening chords of Eleanor Rigby. He hummed and tapped his foot along, taking great pleasure in Mycroft's pleased smile as he played.

"Can you sing?" he asked.

As an answer, Greg sang along to the chorus, throwing in a rather unnecessary riff just for the hell of it. Later, if anyone asked him if he'd done it to show off to Mycroft, Greg would neither confirm nor deny. When he was done, he bowed playfully from his spot on the bed, grinning.

Mycroft laughed, clapping softly. "Wonderful. Do you play often?" he asked. "I'd imagine you do."

Greg shrugged. "Often enough. I used to go out with my friends every once in a while and play in a band we pulled together. Music class will probably be the only time my music sees the light of day here."

"You could join one of the performing bands. Or the choir. You've got a lovely voice." he complimented, smiling at him.

"I'll think about it." Greg promised. "What do you play? I imagine it'd be something really posh. Like cello. Or flute." he teased.

Mycroft rolled his eyes and shook his head. "I play the violin. Which I suppose could be considered 'posh'."

"Violin's pretty posh as well." Greg laughed. "You should learn something like drums or something. That'd be pretty kick arse."

"Drums are so… loud, though." Mycroft said, his noise scrunching up in distaste. "I'd much rather play something that at least sounds nice. Drums are just noise."

"If you say so," he shrugged. "Violin fits you, though. Very posh and elegant. Just like you when you're in your 'prefect mode'."

Mycroft raised a questioning eyebrow. "My… prefect mode? Please do explain, Gregor- Greg."

"I hate to be the one to break it to you, but you have an evil twin. His name's Mycroft and he acts like he's God's gift to humanity. And he thinks he's the bloody Queen of England." he explained with a very serious look on his face.

Mycroft stifled a snort. "But that doesn't make sense. I'm Mycroft. Perhaps you've got me and my supposed twin confused."

Greg shook his head. "Nope. You're My. The nice twin. Mycroft's evil ways have rubbed off on you a bit and sometimes you act like him, but for the most part you're a pretty cool guy."

"You're absurd." Mycroft laughed, shaking his head. "I can assured you I don't have a secret twin brother. He and I are one and the same."

"Nah, he just brainwashed you to think that." Greg insisted. "You're two different boys. And you switch place throughout the day."

Mycroft shook his head, chuckling under his breath as he decided to let it go. "Whatever you wish to believe, Greg. We've got Latin in twenty minutes. Do you know where your books are?" he asked.

"Uh…" Greg put his guitar aside on his bed and kneeled down by the side of his bed, leaning down to reach underneath it. He pulled out his textbook with a proud grin. "It's right here! See? I know where everything is. It's just organized in the Lestrade way."

"Is the Lestrade way by any chance tossing things around at random and praying you'll find them later?" Mycroft asked, smirking.

"Exactly!" Greg nodded. "You understood it immediately. I'm proud. I was afraid I'd have to go through the trouble of teaching you." he said, grabbing his bag and taking out the morning's books, switching them with the afternoon books.

"You're absurd." he said again, chuckling. "How you managed to get accepted is a mystery to me."

Greg shrugged. Honestly, it was a bit of a mystery to him as well. "I just looked really, really cute for my interview and they couldn't possibly say no to my adorableness. They just couldn't stand the fact of never seeing my face again. So they practically begged me to come."

Mycroft laughed. "Whatever you say, Greg. Though I highly doubt you were accepted because of how you looked. Were you a good student back home?"

"Good enough." he shrugged. "I guess the guitar and football didn't hurt. Can't imagine a school full of posh boys like you would have too many athletes in it."

Mycroft rolled his eyes. "We've got plenty of athletes. They're just all decently smart as well."

Greg chuckled, nodding. He checking his watch and standing up, grabbing his bag from the floor. "Want to start getting to class? The bell's going to ring in five minutes."

Mycroft nodded, standing up as well. "Off to the wonderful world of Latin, I suppose." he said sarcastically.

"You? Not liking a class? That absolutely has to be against posh prefect rules." Greg teased, starting to head out.

Mycroft rolled his eyes, following him out. The rest of the day passed by pretty quickly. Music was by far Greg's favorite class. He loved for once sounding like he knew what he was talking about. Mycroft was a wonderful player and Greg loved hearing him play. In the afternoon when they would have usually been free to do homework or hanging out, they were taken back to the dining hall for presentations on the clubs and sport teams of that season, encouraging all of them to join an extracurricular. Greg had already made his mind up about playing football and Mycroft spent the entire time trying to convince Greg to join one of the music societies. By the time they were heading back to the dorms, Greg had decided he'd loved every second of his first day.

**A/N- All right, so this chapter is pretty much a filler to kind of set the ground for their characterizations and their friendship (*cough*soontoberomance*cough*). This story has been several months in the making, so I've already got some of their story arcs planned out for them, so I want to spend as little time in exposition as possible, as I know they can be a bit boring, especially since it's canon characters we're already pretty familiar with. Therefore, the next chapter will probably be the evening of Greg's first day and after that I'll probably have a time lapse of a few weeks. Unless anyone has any complaints about that? Tell me what you think! My main goal is to make my readers happy, so everything you guys tell me will be taken into account. (Which is why I don't write chapters in advance. I like to know reactions or any ideas you guys might have and want to see in the story.) **


	5. In Which They Kiss

**A/N: So I've gone ahead and done the timeskip a bit early to get to the Mystrade ;)**

** Lindsey: Thank you! Unfortunately, I can't make any promises about Siger...**

Chapter 5

The first week at Eton passed by quickly. When Greg wasn't studying, he was practicing guitar, and when he wasn't doing either of those, he was spending time with Mycroft. He had still been too intimidated by the other boys to talk to them, so Mycroft was still his only friend. He had hoped that by now he would have gotten used to Eton, but it was still all unbelievably overwhelming. The campus was easily double the size of his neighborhood and all the boys had an elitist air to him. He mostly avoided everyone aside from Mycroft, but today he had his first football practice and he doubted he'd be able to avoid socializing today.

He headed to the field as soon as his last class was over. He stopped in one of the bathrooms along the way to change into an old t-shirt, his football shorts, and his cleats. Greg got to the football field about ten minutes later. He was stretching in a corner when he saw a few boys around his age walking over.

"Hey, Scholarship Boy!" one of them called out, stopping in front of him and crouching down in front of him. "Didn't know you played."

Greg scowled. "Don't call me that. My name's Greg. And yes. I do play."

"You any good?" another asked, plopping down on the ground next to him. They all had friendly smiles on their faces, but Greg could feel the way they were treating him. Like an inferior.

"Plenty good if I do say so myself." Greg said, sitting up a bit straighter and trying to make it clear that he wasn't going to be pushed around. "Guess you'll see for yourself in a bit, won't you?"

"Well, I'm Elliot, Scholarship Boy. That's Zachary and that's Noah." Elliot, the boy crouching in front of him said, pointing to the two boys on either side of him. He brushed a few strands of blond hair out of his forehead and Greg was mildly impressed at how he managed to look stuck up while doing such a simple action.

The boy to his right, Zachary, spoke up before Greg could complain about the nickname again. "You hang out with that Holmes boy a lot. Did'ya lose a bet or something?"

"Nah, his Daddy probably paid Scholarship Boy off so little Mikey would have a friend." Noah said, laughing obnoxiously.

Greg glared at the three of them. "It's not like that. He's nice. Much nicer than you three gits. Would pick him over you three any day."

Elliot's nose scrunched up in distaste. "You're new, Scholarship Boy. I'll forgive you for not knowing too much. But you'd have to be an idiot to actually like Holmes. He'll probably try to make a move on you or something. He's a total queer. I mean, have you seen the way he dresses?"

"...it's a uniform…" Greg said, raising an eyebrow as he tried to fully comprehend the stupidity of it all. "We're all wearing the exact same thing."

"Yeah, but he wears it different. And he walks like a poof, as well. Always swaying his hips." Noah snorted, imitating the best he could from where he was seated.

"Says the boy with perfectly plucked eyebrows." Greg pointed out, rolling his eyes.

The coach called them and the other boys over before any of the three had a chance to say something back. They did glare at him as they gathered around their coach to listen to his instructions. He also noticed Elliot and his two lackeys mumbling things to the other boys, more than likely some nasty lie he'd made up around Greg. He ignored it, along with the odd looks some of the boys were giving him.

He didn't have to ignore it long. Forty or so minutes in, the coach divided them into two and had them play a short game. Only five minutes into the game, Greg had stolen the ball from the team's star player, outran the other players as he dribbled it down the field, dodged the defense, and sent it flying past the goalie. That more than made up for whatever Elliot had been telling them and now they were all treating him like some god. Greg couldn't help but find it amusing how easily he'd earned their respect. And just the slightest bit terrifying how quickly they'd switched loyalties.

Practice was over before he knew it and soon enough he was drenched in sweat, coated in mud, and he was making his way back to his dorm. A few of the other boys patted him on the back, telling him he'd done a good job. Greg thanked them all politely, but didn't stop long enough to hold up a conversation. Right now he just wanted to shower.

He had missed the familiar ache of his muscles after a football practice. It was a nice sort of ache. Greg loved it, even if it made showering a tad more difficult. He was out of the shower almost as quickly as he had gone in, satisfied that he'd gotten all the mud off. He returned to his room, wrapped in his towel. The last thing he expected to see when he opened the door was Mycroft sitting at the edge of his bed, reading a book that was perched in his lap.

"Sure, let yourself in, My." Greg mumbled, rolling his eyes. "How'd you get the key, anyways?" he asked, going over to his wardrobe to pull out clothes.

Mycroft looked up, mouth open and ready to answer, but faltered as he saw what Greg was wearing. "Uh… I didn't know you were in the shower." he said, swallowing thickly.

Greg looked over his shoulder, smirking. "Yes, it's what people tend to do after getting back from a sports practice. We don't really come out of those things smelling like roses, you know? You didn't answer my question, by the way. Did I leave my door unlocked or something?"

Mycroft shook his head. "I'm prefect. I have a copy of everyone's keys."

"Ah. I'll remember not to sleep naked, then." Greg assured him as he laid the clothes out on his bed. "Was there something you needed?"

"Just came by to say hello." Mycroft said, standing up stiffly. "I'll leave and return in a few minutes, if you'd like."

"You don't have to leave. You can just turn the other way or something." he shrugged, finding it cute how flustered Mycroft was. Greg couldn't help but wonder if there was some truth to the nasty things Elliot had been telling him earlier.

Mycroft nodded stiffly, turning to face the wall as Greg got dressed. Greg didn't tell him once he'd finished getting dressed, only plopped himself down next to him, causing Mycroft to jump nearly a foot in the air from the surprise. He couldn't help but laugh.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. Although I think coming into someone's room unannounced is far worse than sitting down." Greg teased, grinning.

"My apologies." he said, clearing his throat. "It won't happen again. I promise."

"Don't worry about it." Greg assured him, laughing it off. He spotted his wallet on the floor and grinned. He'd been wondering where it'd gone. "There it is!" he exclaimed, leaning down to pick it up and opening it to make sure everything was still there.

Mycroft looked over his shoulder at the picture on the very front of it. "Is that your family?" he asked curiously.

Greg smiled, nodding. He took it out of the plastic covering and passed it over to Mycroft so he could take a better look. "Yeah, it is. That's my mother, Marie. That's my youngest sibling and only sister, Lily. She's six. That's the twins, Jack and Matthew. They're ten and a huge pain in the arse. But they're very lovable. And that's Ryan, he's fourteen." He pointed to each of them as he mentioned them. "We're a rather large family."

"I can see that." Mycroft agreed. "Ryan and you took after your father, right? He looks just like a smaller you. And the other three are absolutely adorable." he said, smiling as he pulled his own wallet out and showed Greg a picture of himself and Sherlock. "I've only got one brother back home. Sherlock. He's seven."

Greg grinned as he looked at the picture. "He's absolutely adorable! Looks like a bit of a troublemaker," he chuckled.

Mycroft made a face, nodding. "He is. I'm always having to get him out of trouble. It can get a bit annoying, but I suppose that's what little brothers are there for."

"All little brothers are annoying. It's in the rule book." Greg said, shrugging. He smiled in Mycroft's direction, finding the face he was making to be absolutely adorable. "Us older brothers always get used to it, though, don't we?"

"We have to. Or else we'd all be driven mad." Mycroft deadpanned. "Tell me, have any of your brothers ever decided it would be fun to have an experiment and nearly burn the house down in the process? Repeatedly?"

"Er… Can't say any of them have." Greg laughed, shaking his head. "Sounds like Sherlock keeps you busy when you're at home."

Mycroft nodded. "Like you wouldn't believe."

"At least he's cute." Greg pointed out, grinning. "The twins are always getting into trouble as well. Though, thankfully, they've never nearly burned the house down."

"Consider yourself lucky." Mycroft mumbled under his breath, moving to put the picture and his wallet away again.

Greg smiled, thinking to himself that the little pout on Mycroft's lips at the moment was probably the cutest thing he had ever seen. His mind strayed back to what those boys at football had been telling him. He wondered if it was true. Of course, if it was, it wouldn't be for the reasons, they'd said, but it could very well have been true. He spent half a second debating it before making what was quite possibly the most impulsive decision he'd ever made in his life.

He wasn't all too sure how he'd gathered the guts to do it, but one second he was sitting there, only half listening to Mycroft talk, and the next he was leaning forward and pressing his lips against Mycroft's. For a few moments, Greg felt as though his heart was soaring. Mycroft was kissing him back, his arms wrapping around Greg's shoulders.

And then, just as quickly as it had begun, it ended. Mycroft stilled against him and pulled back, shaking his head. Greg's heart dropped. He had been so sure he wouldn't get rejected and yet here he was, with Mycroft pushing him away and standing up on shaky legs.

"I-I'm sorry, Gregory. I can't do this." Mycroft mumbled, still shaking his head as he stumbled back. "I… Sorry."

Greg looked devastated as he stood up, trying to follow Mycroft out. "My, I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking. I swear, it won't happen again." he promised.

Mycroft still refused to listen, practically running to his room and slamming the door shut before Greg had a chance to go after him. With a heavy heart, Greg dragged his feet back to his own room, closing the door behind him. He sat on the edge of his bed, resting his head on his hands as he willed back tears. Stupid. That had been stupid. What had he been thinking?

Leave it to him to think it was a good idea to try to make out with the prefect a week into class. How stupid could he be? He sighed wearily, throwing himself back on the bed in frustration. He laid quietly, hating himself for what he'd done. Finally, after what must have been a good hour of brooding, Greg stood up and weakly changed into his sleeping pants. He'd really gone and messed it up this time.

**A/N: So sorry this took me so long! Basketball season started so I've been spending a good chunk of my time in practice. It's Thanksgiving Break, so hopefully I'll be able to get ahead in my writing this week. Thank you for all the support :) Have a good rest of the weekend, dear readers! **


	6. In Which They Go Back to the Snogging

Chapter 6

Greg barely slept that night. He was tossing and turning, wishing he'd never kissed Mycroft. It had been a stupid move. He wasn't even sure what he'd been thinking when he'd done it. Nothing, probably. He wished nothing more than to take it back. He'd only been in school for a week and somehow he'd already managed to muck it all up.

The next morning, he got up dreading breakfast. Mycroft would probably be there. Besides, he always sat with Mycroft. He'd have find some other boys to sit with. Greg figured some of the boys from football wouldn't mind him sitting with them, though he hoped Elliot and his two friends wouldn't be there. If they started annoying him again this morning, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to resist the urge to punch them in the face, which he was sure would get him in loads of trouble.

After a few minutes of just laying down and trying to come up with a good excuse as to why he couldn't attend classes that morning, Greg finally forced himself up and reluctantly dressed himself in his uniform. He took the long way around to the dining hall, dragging his feet all the way. Thankfully, when he walked inside, Mycroft was nowhere to be seen. He stood awkwardly for a few moments, trying to decide where he should sit before finally spotting a table with a boy who had been nice enough to him the day before at football and the classes they shared.

He made his way over and pointed to an empty chair at the table. "Mind if I sit here?" Greg asked, smiling politely at the boy.

"Not at all." he assured him, pulling the chair back so he could sit. "You're… Greg, right?"

Greg nodded, sitting down and placing his school bag at his feet. "Yup. Greg Lestrade. Sorry, I'm afraid I don't remember yours."

"I'm Thomas." he answered, holding his hand out. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Greg. You were quite good at practice yesterday."

"Oh, yeah! Thomas the goalie, right?" He vaguely remembered their coach yelling out instructions at him. "You were pretty brilliant as well. I was quite happy to be on your team. Would have been hard to get the ball past you."

Thomas chuckled as he took a bite of toast. "You don't have to exaggerate. I'm sure you would have gotten it past me without breaking a sweat. Have you been playing for a long time?"

"You know how most fathers want their sons to be doctors or lawyers or whatever?" Greg asked, grinning. "Well, mine wanted me to be a professional football player. Had me enrolled in football classes the month after I learned how to walk. And he spent all his free time playing with me at the park."

The other boy laughed. "That's pretty brilliant, actually. Mine wants me to be a lawyer. Which is terribly boring. I would have much rather had a dad that wanted me to play football. Say, what teams do you root for, Greg?"

They talked about football and their favorite teams for the rest of breakfast. A few minutes in, two other boys from football - Quinn and Ross - sat at the table with them and easily slipped into the conversation. Greg kept an eye on the door the entire time, hoping to see Mycroft come in at some point. When he didn't, Greg just decided that Mycroft was probably trying to avoid him. He couldn't blame him. When the time for breakfast ended and they had to make their way over to first period, they bid each other goodbye until History which they shared and went on their ways.

Greg's first class of the day was Chemistry, which he shared with Mycroft. He walked over to their classroom as slow as he possibly could. He wasn't exactly looking forward to having Mycroft snap at him or tell him how disgusting he thought he was. Still, he couldn't skip the class, even if a part of him sort of wanted to. He didn't want to risk missing any information and having his grades slip. He wasn't naturally smart like Mycroft. He'd only got to where he was today through hours of hard work.

Greg slunk into class just before the bell rang and took his assigned seat, which unfortunately was just next to Mycroft. "Listen, Mycroft, about last night…" he started, taking advantage of the fact that their professor was late.

"I don't want to talk about it, Gregory." Mycroft mumbled, furiously taking notes of what was already on the board and avoiding Greg's gaze.

He sighed, nodding. "Right. Well… For what it's worth, I'm sorry." he murmured, frowning as he pulled his own books out and waited for the teacher to get there.

The teacher arrived only moments later and after that Greg was far too focused on taking notes to worry too much about Mycroft. The awkward air between them was impossible to completely ignore, though. When the bell rang for the next class, Mycroft had picked his things up and left before Greg had a chance to try to talk to him again. Greg sighed dejectedly and went off to his second period class.

Mycroft managed to avoid him all morning and was once again nowhere to be found at lunch time. Greg ate lunch with the same boys from breakfast before heading back to the dorms, where he planned on spending his free period. Just as he was unlocking his bedroom door, he saw Mycroft coming out of his. The second Mycroft saw him, he tried to go back inside, but Greg ran over and jammed his foot in the door so he couldn't slam the door in his face.

"Will you at least give me a chance to apologize?" Greg pleaded, frowning deeply. He understood Mycroft being upset, but he didn't think he'd be this mad.

"There's nothing to apologize for, Gregory." Mycroft said stiffly, tugging at his door to try to get Greg's foot out of the way. "Now may I please close my door?"

"I've told ya. It's Greg. Not Gregory. And if there was nothing to apologize for, you wouldn't be this upset at me. I don't know what I was thinking, My. It won't happen again. I promise." Greg sighed, shaking his head.

Mycroft bit his lip, looking over Greg's shoulder to make sure the hallway was empty before pulling him into the room and closing the door shut behind him. "You can't do that ever again, Gregory. You realize my father has eyes and ears all over the school, don't you?"

"It's not going to happen again. And… what does your father have to do with anything?" he asked, face scrunching up in confusion.

"If my father ever found out about… this he would kill me." Mycroft mumbled, sitting at the edge of his bed with a weary sigh. "I can't risk him hearing about this from some student or teacher or something."

"Wait… So the reason you spent all morning avoiding me wasn't because you think I'm some disgusting poof or something? It's because of your father? Seriously?" Greg asked, gaping at him.

Mycroft looked up at him like he was an idiot. "Obviously. I kissed you back, didn't I?" he pointed out, raising an eyebrow.

"I thought you hated me!" he exclaimed, shaking his head and dropping onto the seat by Mycroft's desk. "I'm such an idiot."

"You really are." Mycroft agreed, though there was the smallest hint of a smile on his face. "I find you very… attractive. I wouldn't have kissed you back if I hadn't."

"So… does this mean I can kiss you so long as no one can see?" Greg asked, cheering up.

"One track mind, much?" Mycroft laughed, rolling his eyes. His cheeks were tinged with pink. "And… yes… I suppose you could kiss me if you wanted to."

"Holy shit." Greg breathed out, grinning. "That's awesome!"

"I mentioned you're an idiot, right?" Mycroft asked, rolling his eyes again. "Out of everything, you're going to worry about whether or not you can kiss me."

"Right. Um… sorry about the fact that your dad is an arse?" Greg offered, unsure what to say. His father had been dead when girls still had cooties and though he'd never come out to his mother, he was more than sure that she would be more than fine with it.

Mycroft sighed, shaking his head. "I'd rather not talk about it."

Greg nodded in understanding. "That's fine. You don't have to. So… uh… what does this make us?"

"...I don't know. It doesn't really matter as long as no one finds out." Mycroft said, shrugging weakly.

"Well… Why don't we let things run their course, yeah? Don't worry, though. No one will find out." Greg assured him. "Now… how about we try that kissing thing again?" he said, smirking.

Mycroft rolled his eyes. "You're an idiot." he muttered.

They wound up trying the 'kissing thing' again for quite a while. Greg had what he swore was the best twenty minutes of snogging in his life and Mycroft had, if he didn't count last night, the first twenty minutes of snogging in his life. Even after they pulled, they stayed with their foreheads pressed against each other as they caught their breath. They shared a few more soft, lazy kisses before fully pulling back.

"That was great." Greg said with a breathless grin. "Sorry, is it tacky to say that? You know what, I don't care. It's the truth."

Mycroft chuckled, rolling his eyes. "Yes, I do believe it's a tad bit tacky. But I must say I agree. I didn't ask yesterday, how was football? Did you play well?"

"Course I did!" he scoffed. "I always do! I'm Greg Lestrade. My name is practically synonymous with football."

"Oh yes, and humility as well." Mycroft rolled his eyes.

"I'm only cocky when it's true." Greg laughed, smirking proudly. "Now… can we get back to snogging?"

"Have I mentioned you're an idiot?"

At this point, Greg didn't particularly care what Mycroft called him. So long as he got to kiss him again. And that's how they spent the rest of their free period. Snogging on Mycroft's bed with the topic of Mycroft's father far from their minds when, really, it should have been the first of their worries.

**A/N: Ah damn it guys I'm sorry I've been so slow lately. My baby brother's birthday is this Friday and things have been crazy with trying to organize everything. Hopefully some of you are older siblings and will understand how important it is to me that everythign is as perfect as possible for him :P Again, really sorry about taking so long. But yeah, Greg is a bit of an idiot. Too busy focusing on how hot he thinks Mycroft is to notice how little Myc eats or to wonder how much of a douche Siger is. Soooo you can definitely expect things to blow up in his face pretty soon. **


	7. In Which Mycroft Doesn't Eat

**A/N: All right guys so two warnings for this one. One more serious than the other. The not so serious one is an apology for the horrible grammar in the texting bit. Teenagers aren't exactly known for their wonderful English while texting. And the second is that there is talking and description of eating disorders. So if that's triggering for you, I suggest treading with caution.**

Chapter 7

Things went smoothly for a few weeks. Greg and Mycroft spent time together during the day as usual, though Greg now spent some of his time with football mates as well, but the shared kisses and caresses were left for their free time in the evening, when they were safely hidden away in one of their rooms. Greg didn't think much of it. He just assumed Mycroft was awfully worried about staying in the closet. He understood. He hadn't told his mum yet, either.

With what had happened with Mycroft, Greg was sure he would have been enjoying his time in Eton regardless of anything else that happened. Thankfully, though, Mycroft wasn't the only thing he was enjoying. True, a good portion of the boys he was attending with were snobs, but the boys from his football team he had befriended weren't so bad. There were times when they'd start conversations about their vacations over summer break - all to ridiculously expensive places like New York or Rome - or about their family's many properties or their yachts or something, but it was less than some of the other boys at school. There were some classmates who Greg had only ever seen talking about their luxuries and riches. Whenever he was near a conversation like that, Greg found it was best to shut his mouth and divert his attention elsewhere.

The hardest part of adjusting to his new school life was how much harder the classes were. Even if he'd often deny it or pretend otherwise, Greg was an excellent student. However, it wasn't natural genius like Mycroft's that kept his grades above average. It was much of his time dedicated to hard work and studying. Here at Eton, it became even harder to keep his grades up to par. What before would have taken an hour of studying back home, was easily two here. Still, he managed somehow. It was worth it to see his mother proud of him. That was the only reason he worked so hard. Ever since his father had died, he'd become determined to do as well as he possibly could be. There was nothing Greg wanted more than to make his mother proud.

He spent his first few weeks too focused on schoolwork, music, and football to worry about much else. Once he'd gotten used to larger workload, he started shifting some of his focus to Mycroft and noticing all the little things. Like how he tended to tug at his ear when he was deep in thought. Or how often in class, Mycroft would bite his lip to keep back comments about how idiotic he thought the teachers were. It wasn't until halfway through his second month that he noticed just how little Mycroft ate. Only about once every few days.

Greg had been sitting at lunch when he connected the dots. Mycroft wasn't there, so he'd sat with his football mates. At first, he hadn't thought much of Mycroft not being there. The other boy had a habit of skipping lunch. In fact, he skipped lots of meals. And even when he was there with him, Mycroft rarely ever ate and when he did it was never much, Greg realized with a feeling of dread growing in the pit of his stomach.

"Say… You know Mycroft, right, Ross?" Greg asked, looking over at the blond teenager who played forward with him on the team.

Ross nodded. "The Holmes bloke, right? The one you hang out with sometimes? I don't know him personally, but I've shared a dorm building with him since our first year."

"He doesn't come to meals much, does he?" he mentioned, trying to be as casual as possible.

"Now that you mention it…" Thomas shrugged. "He used to come just like all the rest of up until this year. And… he did look like he lost a lot of weight over the summer."

"Huh…" Greg nodded, frowning. He was really hoping his suspicions were wrong.

"He's got a bit of a temper on him, though." Ross warned. "I don't suggest you go ask him too many personal questions. Might snap at you. And Holmes is scary when he's angry."

"He's not above using his family's power to get back at people." Quinn added, nodding in agreement with what Ross had said.

Greg doubted Mycroft would really do anything very horrible to him, but he nodded anyways. "I'll keep that in mind." he said.

The conversation shifted to their History test the next week and that was that. But Greg couldn't stop thinking about Mycroft. It could very well be nothing. Perhaps Mycroft had taken to eating his meals with his father in the headmaster's office. Perhaps he just ate in his room or somewhere else on campus. Either way, Greg really should have noticed something sooner and he felt horrible for not having done so. He went about his afternoon classes and was distracted the entire time. He didn't mention anything to Mycroft, though. In the middle of class was hardly an appropriate time.

Of all the days that he could have noticed, that Thursday was possibly the worst. He couldn't start a conversation like that in class and after they got out of their last afternoon class, he had football practice all the way up until dinner. It was one of the worst practices he'd had so far, as his mind was elsewhere the entire time. He missed a few passes and was nowhere near as aggressive in his navigating the ball. Halfway through the practice, he had a bit of a spat with Elliot who was very loudly wondering if Mycroft's queerness had rubbed off on Greg and that's why he wasn't playing as well. Their coach broke it up quickly, but not before Greg managed to get a punch or two in. Nobody made any comments after that.

Mycroft wasn't in dinner either and Greg made his way through his dinner as quickly as he could so he could get back to the dorms. Sure enough, Mycroft was in his room and let Greg in just a moment after he'd knocked. Greg sat at the edge of Mycroft's bed and tried to act as normal as possible.

"You weren't dinner today. Or lunch." Greg noted, trying to sound casual.

"Hmm? Oh, yes." Mycroft nodded stiffly. "I was… busy. Finishing up work." he explained. It was an obvious lie.

"You must be busy an awful lot." Greg said, frowning as he looked over at Mycroft. "You're not at meals very often."

Mycroft stiffened. "I don't get hungry often." he mumbled, standing up from his bed and moving over to his desk to sift through papers and books nervously.

"Not often? You only eat every other day!" Greg said. His frown deepened. Greg may be oblivious at times, but he wasn't an idiot, and he certainly knew the red flags for an eating disorder when he saw them.

"And that's fine." Mycroft snapped, glaring at Greg over his shoulder. "Was there anything else you wanted or did you just come to pester me?"

"My…" Greg sighed, standing up and moving over to the other boy, wrapping his arms around him. "I'm just worried. That's all. It can't possibly be healthy to eat so little."

"I'm fine." he muttered, shoving Greg away gently. Mycroft went to his door and held it open for him. "You should go now, Gregory."

Greg winced slightly. The name 'Gregory' sounded very harsh coming from Mycroft's lips. "Sorry…" he mumbled, walking out of the room dejectedly. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"I suppose," was the last thing Mycroft mumbled weakly before closing the door in Greg's face.

Greg shuffled back to his room, throwing himself on his bed with a sigh. He guessed this meant his suspicions had been right, though he wished more than anything they hadn't. If only Mycroft hadn't been so upset. Maybe then they could have talked instead of Mycroft kicking him out of the room. Maybe he should have approached him differently? Or not been as direct in his questions? Too late now, he supposed.

There was no point in sulking the rest of the night and Greg forced himself out of bed and over to his desk. He pulled out a few of his textbooks and spent the next few hours studying and getting his homework done, though Mycroft was on the back of his mind the entire time. Close to ten, he put the last of his books away, satisfied with the work he'd done on his assignments and with the amount of studying he'd gotten done. He should have gotten his guitar out and practiced a bit, but he knew it was the type of night where he wouldn't get anything right, either way. He just needed to vent for a while right now.

Greg grabbed his phone from where he'd left it on the bed, debating for a few moments whether he should talk to his mother or vent to his best friend Anna for a while. He decided to start with the latter and call his mother later if he still had time. It was better if he just got this out of system first. He wouldn't want to accidentally come out to his mother because he started talking about Mycroft unintentionally.

Anna and he had been best friends since they'd been in diapers. They'd grown ridiculously attached to each other over the last sixteen years and it had been leaving each other that had bothered them the most about starting at Eton. Back home, people had had a bad habit of assuming they were dating, which they both found absolutely hilarious seeing as Anna liked girls and Greg liked boys, something about each other only they knew. If there was anything he could go to about this, it was Anna.

_hey, you there? -GL_

_duh! - AJ_

_wats up, bitch? meet any cute princes or somethin? - AJ_

_Something like that. I need ur advice about something. About a boy. - GL_

_oooooooooooooooh! - AJ_

_how have I not heard about this b4? - AJ_

_tell me everything. is he cute? is he nice? does he play footie with u? - AJ_

_...is he rich? omg he has to be if he's at that overly posh school with you. - GL_

_You cant see it, but Im rolling my eyes at u. Yes hes cute. Yes hes nice. He's about as far from a football player as u can get and his father's the headmaster. He probs has more money than he knows what to do with. - GL_

_Thats not what Im txting about though. I think he has a bit of a… eating problem. - GL_

_the guy is filthy rich. he can hav an xtra donut if he wants 2. - AJ_

_Other way around. - GL_

_Oh. - AJ_

_Yeah… I feel like abit of an idiot 4 not seeing anythin b4. :/ - GL_

_u txt like a teenage girl. i actually am 1. whats ur excuse? :P - AJ_

_sorry, sorry, wrong time. um… did u talk to him? - AJ_

_Obviously. He was upset. - GL_

_course he was. thats how these things go. Uh… when do u next see him? - AJ_

_when u do, try to talk to him again. be gentle. and be ready to drop it when he gets agitated. but bring it up again later. be persistent. he probably doesnt wanna talk about it. uve just gotta wait til he opens up. - AJ_

_Yeah… I guess I'll do that. Thx Anna. Love you! - GL_

_Love you too, bitch. 3 - AJ_

Greg sighed, closing the text window and dialing his mother's phone number. It rang a few times before his mother picked up on the other end.

"Greg!" she exclaimed. Greg could practiclly hear the grin on her face and, unfortunately, the tiredness in her voice.

"Mum! I miss ya. How's everything back home?" he asked. "Everyone behaving all right? The twins aren't giving you too hard a time, right?" He knew he probably should have waited before asking so many questions, but he couldn't help himself. He was missing his family more than he'd expected to.

His mother laughed. "Yes, dear, everything's fine. Jack and Matthew are… well, they're Jack and Matthew. Everything's the same as always, just missing one of my ducklings, is all. And your friends are missing one of their partners in crime."

"Mum! Don't call me a duckling." Greg whined halfheartedly, though he didn't mind at all. He thought it was sweet. "Before you ask, things are doing fine here at school." He didn't go into detail about Mycroft. There was no point worryying his mother about anything. Besides, he hadn't even told her about Mycroft. "My grades are… fine."

"Just fine?" she asked. "I suppose fine is better than bad. You're working hard, right? Studying everyday?"

Greg nodded. "Yes. Studying and playing football and going over my music everyday, Mum." he assured her. "Courses are more than just a tad bit harder here at Eton. That's all. My grades will get better, I promise."

"Just as long as you're trying your hardest, I'll be proud of you. You know that, dear." she said. "Now go spend time with your friends. I'm sure you don't have as much free time as you used to. You should spent it having fun. I love you, Greg."

"I love you, too, Mum." Greg said, smiling. They bid each other goodbye and Greg hung up the phone. There was only about half an hour before lights out and he doubted he would be able to socialize much with the sour mood he was in. He absent mindedly texted a few friends from home for a while until his eyes grew tired enough for him to change into his night clothes, turn off the lights, and call it a day. Tomorrow, he promised himself, he would try to talk to Mycroft again.

**A/N: Right. So. Again, sorry that I've been so slow with updates recently. Like I said, basketball season started. My first game is tomorrow so we've had practices every day. Which is tiring and time consuming, but I love the sport so I can't really complain. I hope this chapter was satisfacotry and I hope that I'll manage to actually fall into a schedule soon. Thanks for reading/reviewing! :) **


	8. In Which Siger Talks to Greg

Chapter 8

Greg woke up with a feeling of dread. He didn't want to talk to Mycroft. He knew he had to, but he didn't particularly want to. He knew that was selfish of him, but Greg was just a teenager. Teenagers weren't meant to deal with matters as big as these. Most of them went through them, yes, but there was a reason adults were always the ones to make things better and not the teenagers themselves.

Greg knew that he couldn't just let it happen. That would be wrong. But a part of him was afraid as to how Mycroft would react. Last night, he'd gotten kicked out of the room. Obviously, Mycroft didn't much like talking about it, but this wasn't really something they could just ignore. It wouldn't end well. Greg couldn't see this ending well no matter what happened. If Mycroft wound up hating him and deciding he never wanted to see him again, Greg still had a few friends from football. From what he'd seen, Mycroft had no one. He couldn't stand the thought of Mycroft being left alone if things ended wary.

It was a bit odd. Greg wasn't really the type to care much for others. He deeply loved his family and the one or two friends he was close enough to consider family. For those people, he would gladly give his life. But other than them, he was mostly indifferent. He was friendly to people and would offer help whenever possible, but they never took priority over himself. And yet here he was, worrying more about Mycroft and whether or not he'd have someone than himself. For a brief second, he couldn't help but wonder if this is what it felt like to be in love. He didn't ponder on it for long. It was a strange thought. One he didn't particularly want to spend too long thinking about.

It wound up taking him nearly half an hour to gather up the nerves to go to Mycroft's room. He took as long as he possibly could to get ready, using it as an excuse to delay heading to Mycroft's room. There was only so long he could delay it, though, and far too soon he was standing in front of the door, awkwardly waiting for the other boy to answer.

Mycroft answered after a minute or so, not looking very pleased to see him. "Was there something you wanted, Gregory?" he asked.

"You know why I'm here, My." Greg said, sighing. He could already tell this would be immensely uncomfortable for both of them. "Can I come in? Please?"

For a moment, it looked as though Mycroft was going to say no. But then he sighed in defeat and nodded, motioning for Greg to step inside. "Fine. Make it quick,"

"Look… I know you probably think I'm really stupid, but I just worry, okay? And I feel a bit useless knowing i've been here for weeks and I didn't notice anything. Nor did you even try to talk to me." Greg sighed, frowning.

Mycroft sat at the edge of his bed wearily. "I don't like talking to people about it. Don't take it personally." he mumbled, staring down at his feet.

"Yeah, well, I'm not just any person, now am I?" Greg pointed out. He kneeled down in front of Mycroft, gently taking his hands into his. "You can talk to me 'bout anything. I just don't want to see you hurting."

"It doesn't matter anyway. It's stupid." Mycroft insisted, though he didn't try to take his hands away, which Greg took as a good sign.

He shook his head. "It's not stupid if it's bothering you. What's wrong, My? D'ya, like… not feel good enough?" Greg felt like slapping himself at that point. He really was rubbish at trying to talk to people about problems.

"I… I don't want to talk about it, Gregory." Mycroft said, standing up abruptly and grabbing his school bag. "We should head down to breakfast."

Greg nodded, not wanting the push the topic too badly. The last thing he wanted was for Mycroft to completely shut down on him. "All right… But I'm here if you want to talk about it, okay?"

"I know, Gregory." Mycroft said softly, "Let's just… let's just go." He headed out the door, not stopping to check if Greg was following him.

Greg followed behind him, his fists clenching tightly around the straps of his bag out of nerves. It hadn't gone badly, per se, but he felt a bit as though Mycroft didn't trust him. He could understand why. He was just some random boy who he'd known for a few weeks, but still, he had thought Mycroft had just a bit more trust in him. As hard as he tried not to take it personally, it still stung.

They got to the dining hall and took their seats in a corner of the room as usual. Greg didn't comment as Mycroft grabbed some food for himself, not wanting to make him more uncomfortable than necessary. It wasn't much. Just a piece of toast and some beans, but it was certainly better than nothing at all. Greg was just glad Mycroft hadn't completely blown him off when he'd shown up at his room that morning. Baby steps, he reminded himself. They'd make progress through baby steps.

They ate a bit silently for a few minutes. Mycroft ate a bit awkwardly, doing more poking at his food than anything else. Greg was just glad he was eating at all. In the silence, Greg shifted around uncomfortably. He hated silence. He could deal with is every once in a while, but he was the type of person who preferred a constant chatter.

"So… Did you, uh, do the Bio homework?" Greg asked pathetically. It wasn't the greatest conversation starter, but it was better than nothing.

Mycroft nodded. "Of course. Did you?"

"I tried." he answered, shrugging. "I don't think I did it right, though. It was a bit complicated. Didn't understand the last lesson at all."

"I'm sure it's fine, Greg. I've seen your work. You underestimate yourself far too much. I'm pretty sure you're smarter than half the boys here." Mycroft said, chuckling a bit softly.

Greg couldn't hold back a smile as his ears turned pink. Compliments were always nice, but a compliment from Mycroft Holmes? In the area of academics? It was practically unheard of. "Thanks, My." he murmured, fidgeting a bit. "Still not sure whether I did it right, though."

"We'll see in class, I suppose. That's our first period today, correct?" Mycroft asked. At Greg's nod, he continued. "We won't be doing much today. He's in too good a mood. He slept with the school nurse last night."

Greg nearly choked on his orange juice as he held back a laugh. "How could you possibly know that?" he asked, glancing over at a table near the entrance where several teachers were sitting, among them their biology teacher.

"Last night, he left dinner going in the direction of Nurse Jenny's building, not his own. And this morning he came to breakfast from that direction as well. And he's wearing a bandage just below his ear, though the area immediately around it seems to be just fine. More than likely, he's hiding a mark."

"Damn." Greg laughed. "Well, good for him. And good for us if he really is in the good mood you say he is."

Mycroft nodded, standing up and grabbing his bag from the floor. "Shall we go then?" he asked, starting to head off before Greg had even agreed.

They walked past over to the science building, mostly in silence. Mycroft seemed to still be a bit nervous around Greg, as though he was going to start teasing or mocking him any second. Greg couldn't help but feel terrible for him. None of the other boys seemed to be very fond of Mycroft and he must have obviously been alone all the previous years.

They got to the Biology classroom just after their professor. Just as Mycroft had predicted, he seemed to be in a much better mood today than usual and just played a movie for them. While he insisted they take notes, most boys just talked quietly to their friends while the movie played in the background. Greg tried to talk to Mycroft, but the other by hushed him and insisted on taking notes of the movie. Therefore, Greg wound up spending his first two periods of class watching a documentary on Darwinism.

Halfway through their next class, Greg got called out of the classroom and told to go up to the office. He didn't mind. He'd been in the middle of Calculus, which he absolutely hated. He wasn't too worried about being in any sort of trouble. He hadn't broken any rules. Mycroft would have probably given him an earful. He strolled into the office calmly, getting a bit curious when he was told to sit and wait to be called into the headmaster's office. What could Siger Holmes want with him? More than likely, he wanted to talk about Mycroft, but what could he need that he would call Greg out of class?

It took nearly half an hour for Greg to be called back in. Every minute that passed by made Greg more anxious. At the fifteen minute mark, he started fidgeting nervously. While when he'd gotten to the office, he couldn't possibly think of any reason as to why he'd be in trouble, now he'd come up with a list a mile long. It was all incredibly ridiculous reasons such as using the wrong fork at dinner, not tying his shoe laces correctly, tying his tie on the wrong way, and other stupid things. The list went on and on. In the wait, he retied his tie about a dozen times, tucked his shirt in again a handful of times, and twice, leaned down to fix his shoes and socks. When the headmaster's secretary finally called him in, Greg took a deep breath and stepped inside the office.

"Good afternoon, Headmaster." Greg said, standing stiffly in front of the now closed door. He had his hands behind his back, stood straight as a rod, and held his chin up.

"Ah, Mr. Lestrade. Good to see you," Siger said, taking his reading glasses off and looking up from some papers on his desk. "Take a seat." He gestured towards one of the empty seats in front of his desk.

Greg took a seat in front of him, trying to appear as confident as possible. "Is there something wrong, sir?" he asked, the thousand stupid reasons why he might be in trouble flashing through his head.

Siger shook his head and smiled at the teenager, though it was easy to see how faked it was. "No, no. Nothing to worry about. I just wish to speak to you about my son. I've been told you two have been spending a lot of time together. Far more than the few days I asked Mycroft to show you around."

Greg nodded. "Yes, sir. Mycroft and I are good friends." he confirmed. He couldn't possibly be in trouble for being friends with the headmaster's son, could he?

"And you two are… just friends, correct?"

Ah. So that's what this is about. On autopilot and instinct alone, Greg nodded, making a face to show how absurd he thought the idea was. He was used to lying about things like this back home. "Of course. I have a girlfriend back home." Another lie, but he and Mycroft had talked very briefly about this. They'd agreed it sounded far more believable to say that Greg had someone waiting for him back him.

Siger looked incredibly relieved, though he still had an air of superiority to him. It was obvious that he though Greg was far below him in all aspects. "Good, good. I'd certainly hate to have the two of you suffer the consequences if you were anything more."

It was a thinly veiled threat that made Greg pale slightly as he nodded. "I understand, sir. You've nothing to worry about." he assured him.

"I'm sure I don't, Mr. Lestrade. Now off to class with you. We only have the best here at Eton. Won't have any of my students failing their exams." he said, shooing Greg with a wave of his hand as he went back to his paper work.

Greg nodded again and scurried out of the room in the most dignified manner he could manage, which, granted, wasn't very dignified at all. He was a bit shaken after this, wanting nothing more than to pull Mycroft into one of their dorms to tell him about what had happened. But there were still a few more hours of class to go and he couldn't risk having someone overhear, so he simply settled for deciding that he would tell Mycroft at the first chance they go.

It was already lunch time when he left the office building. When he walked in, he saw Mycroft sitting alone in the corner of a table, a textbook in front of him instead of a plate of food. Looking back, Mycroft's eating habits had been glaringly obvious since the beginning of the year and Greg was sure he wouldn't stop beating himself up about it for a long while. His mind strayed to Siger's vague threat and as he approached the table with a heavy heart, he hoped with all his heart that he hadn't missed something else when it came to Mycroft and his father.

**A/N: Once again, I'm sorry this took me so long! I know it's the same excuse as last time and that it's no less game, but basketball has been keeping me pretty busy lately. Winter break starts for me next week and with any luck I'll have enough free time to write a few chapters in advance. At the very least, I hope to update at least once a week. Really, though, if I'm a bit slow, feel free to bug me through private messaging or on my tumblr (littlewatsonholmes). :P So, some things to look forward to for next time: Mycroft and Greg talking about Siger, some interactionbetween Mycroft and Greg's friends from football, and who knows? Maybe Elliot will be causing some trouble again ;)**


	9. In Which Girls Are Not Greg's Division

**A/N: So, Greg and Mycroft have face claims now. Greg is Liam Payne (don't judge, it fits xD) and Mycroft is Sean Berdy. :) Also, the fic has a title now (I've been meaning to change it since I first put it up, I just hadn't gotten around to it) and it's after the Fall Out Boy song :P**

**Chapter 9**

Mycroft barely waited thirty seconds before starting to interrogate Greg on where he'd gone and if he'd been in his father's office. "Where were you? Did my father call for you? What did he want? Are you okay?" he asked, all practically in one breath.

"Mycroft, I'm fine. Breathe. Calm down." Greg said, patting the other boy's shoulders. "Yes, your father was the one that wanted to talk to me. As for what he said, well… we'll talk later, all right?"

Mycroft swallowed thickly, looking even more worried now than when Greg had first sat down. He nodded. "Very well. We'll speak after class."

"Here. Eat an apple." Greg said, putting one down on top of the book Mycroft was looking over. Mycroft looked at it with distaste but he took a tiny bite from it. Greg gave him a grateful smile. "So, what did I miss in class?"

"Not much. After you left, we just started on the homework." Mycroft said, shrugging. "I'll help you this afternoon, if you wish."

"I'd like that." Greg nodded. They fell back into silence, not that either boy minded. It was quiet until a few minutes later when Thomas approached, grinning and looking far too chipper for it to be before nine o'clock in the morning.

"Hey, Greg!" he said, as he sat down, putting a glass of juice down carelessly, the liquid inside threatening to spill over as it sloshed about. "Hello, Mycroft. Do you two mind if I sit here?" Thomas asked.

Mycroft fidgeted slightly in his seat, but he gave Greg the briefest of nods, so he knew there wouldn't be a problem. "Of course you can sit here, mate." Greg assured Thomas, brow scrunching in confusion as he looked over the other boy's shoulders in search of Quinn and Ross. The three were almost always together.

"Where are Quinn and Ross?" Greg asked, raising an eyebrow. "You three are usually joined at the hip."

"Yeah, just like you and Mycroft." Thomas laughed. He smirked and leaned closer to the two boys, lowering his voice to just above a whisper. "They're probably not going to be around today. They're 'sick'. At least, that's what we told everyone. The two idiots snuck out last night. There's a girls school about a twenty minute drive from here and Quinn keeps his car parked in the town's local supermarket so he can sneak out every once in a while and go over. Since he's not back yet, it's pretty safe to assume he got laid last night. Either that, or he got caught."

Greg laughed. "Oh, boy. Sounds like they had quite the night, then. Hopefully they'll be back by tonight. It'd be easy to explain missing meals and class. They could just say they had a cold or something. But if they're not here by the time rounds are being made before lights out, well… they'll be in trouble."

Thomas chuckled, nodding. "Once they got here the exact moment that attendance began. They're always sneaking out. I think the teachers have just stopped caring and look the other way." The boy cast a weary glance towards Mycroft, as if suddenly remembering that he was sitting with a prefect. "Er… you're not going to punish them, are you? Or tell your father?"

Mycroft shook his head. "You've nothing to worry about. My father won't find out from me. If your friends aren't careful, though…"

He nodded. "Yeah, don't worry. They know. They should be back any minute now." Thomas assured him.

"Say, why didn't you go with them? I'd imagine a girls only school is the best place to find a girlfriend? Or not even a girlfriend, just someone to spend the night with." Greg pointed out, laughing.

"Er… I'm not really looking for a girlfriend or even a quick shag or something. But if I was, I'd be more likely to find one here." he admitted, fidgeting uncomfortably and looking awfully nervous. "Girls aren't really all that appealing for me."

"Oh." Greg patted his back encouragingly. "Don't worry 'bout it, mate. Girls aren't really my division, either."

Mycroft remained quiet at his seat, shifting a bit uncomfortably. Thomas noticed and cleared his throat, changing the subject of conversation to football and classes. Greg reached under the table and squeezed Mycroft's knee gently. He knew that Mycroft was as far back in the closet as it was possible for anyone to be and after meeting Siger that afternoon, he could understand why. If he had a father like that, he'd probably want to keep it as secret as possible, too. When the bell for the rest of their classes rang, Greg and Mycroft bid Thomas goodbye and went off to Latin.

Their afternoon classes passed by quickly, thankfully. Greg was spaced out for most of it, but he didn't worry too much. Mycroft always let him borrow his notes. When their last bell rang, they gathered their things and began the walk back to their dorm rooms.

"Do you have football today?" Mycroft asked, looking over at Greg with an arched eyebrow.

He shook his head. "Nope. Fridays are my day off from football. I don't think I have anything this afternoon, actually. You?" He knew that Mycroft was involved in what seemed like every activity at school and it felt like he was always off at extra curricular activities.

"No. Nothing so important that I can't miss it, anyway. Come on," he walked a bit faster, gesturing for Greg to follow. "We'll go up to my room. You can tell me why you were called to the office."

Greg nodded. "Right. Calm down, alright? It'll be pretty rubbish if you die of an aneurysm before the day is out, Mycroft."

"You're not as funny as you think you are, Gregory." he said, shooting Greg a half hearted glare. "I'm worried. That's all. Now, hurry up." Mycroft tugged at Greg's wrist to get him to walk faster.

Mycroft wound up practically dragging Greg behind him the rest of the way up to his dorm room while Greg spent the entire time telling him to calm down. Finally, they were up at Mycroft's dorm and the second the door closed behind them, Mycroft Greg pinned against the wall and pulled him into a kiss.

"You're okay, right?" he asked. The facade of nonchalant prefect who cared about nothing but his grades was gone now. Now it was easy to see how scared he really was underneath it all and it practically broke Greg's heart.

"It's okay, My." Greg assured him, cupping Mycroft's face in his hands and pressing gentle kisses to his cheeks and jaw. "I'm fine. See? I'm all in one piece, aren't I? Your father… he just wanted to know if the two of us were really friends. That's all."

"Don't lie to me, Greg." Mycroft mumbled, burrowing his face in Greg's neck. "I know my father and he wouldn't call you over just for that. Tell me before I have to find out myself. I'd rather hear it from you."

He sighed as he ran his fingers through Mycroft's hair. He really didn't know how he'd thought he could get away with lying to someone like Mycroft Holmes. "He just… he asked if we were just friends. Obviously, I lied and said yes. And he said that was good because I really wouldn't like the consequences if the answer had been that we were more than friends. It's no big deal, My. Just don't worry too much, okay?"

Mycroft nodded shakily. "Fine… But if he ever calls you over to his office again, you tell me, okay?"

"Of course, I will, My." Greg assured him, nodding. "You don't have to worry about it." He led them over to Mycroft's bed, sitting at the edge and rubbing his back. "I just… I know parents can be rubbish sometimes, but why are you so afraid of your dad? He doesn't… He doesn't hit you, does he?"

"He… yells a lot. But he's not usually violent, no." he shook his head. Mycroft stopped him just as Greg started to protest - 'Usually?!'. "Just drop it, okay? Not today, Greg. I just… don't wanna talk about him today."

Greg nodded begrudgingly. "All right, My… I'll drop it for now. Just for now, though, okay?" At Mycroft's nod, he relaxed a bit, leaning forward to give him a brief kiss. "Now calm down a bit, okay? I don't like seeing you so upset. Besides, you need to help me with our Latin homework."

Mycroft rolled his eyes as he moved to kiss him again. "You're an idiot, Greg." he mumbled fondly against his lips.

"You know you love me, anyway!" Greg teased, laughing. He froze a moment after, realizing his phrasing. "Er… I mean, uh, y'know, like me anyway. Not, uh, not love. I mean, unless you, um, wanted to, but, er-" he stuttered, his ears turning bright red.

Mycroft shut him up with another kiss. "You're an idiot, Greg." he murmured again. "But you're right, I do love you, anyway." he said, wrapping his arms around the other boy's waist.

"Really?" Greg asked, grinning goofily. "Cause, uh, I think I love you, too, My." he said, feeling himself turn even redder.

"You're so romantic, Greg. I 'think' I love you, too." he quoted, shaking his head in amusement. "You're adorable."

Greg grinned as he practically tackled Mycroft down onto the bed, kissing him eagerly and pinning him down against the mattress. He wasn't used to this. He wasn't used to wanting to be with someone for more than one night or the butterflies in his stomach or just the feeling of rightness he got when he was around Mycroft. But if it was always like what he was feeling at that moment, then he had a pretty good feeling he'd be able to get used to it without a problem.

**Flashback Drabble a.k.a Christmas Present**

Greg had practically been up all night with excitement. He'd tried to lay down and get some sleep, but it had ended with him eagerly hopping on his bed until he'd finally passed out from exhaustion. Today, his father was coming home on leave. It'd been months since Greg and his brothers had last seen their dad. He was off in Afghanistan with the RAF. But every year, he always promised to come home for Christmas, and this year was no different.

Liam, Greg's father, was meant to be returning that night at eleven, but that didn't stop Greg from being up at the first crack of dawn. He raced to his mother's bedroom, jumping up on the bed. Carefully, of course. His mother was pregnant and he didn't want to hurt her. "Mum! Mum! Da's coming back today! Da's coming back!"

His mother looked up at him with sleepy eyes, chuckling as she gently tugged him down onto the bed to lay down next to her. "That he is, my little duckling." she said, nodding as she leaned over to press a kiss to his forehead. "But he won't be back until tonight. So you can afford to go back to sleep for another hour or so, okay?"

Greg grumbled under his breath, but nodded and curled up at his mother's side before promptly falling back to sleep. He woke up again at a more reasonable hour, closer to nine. His mother was already up and he smelled pancakes cooking in the kitchen. He got up out of bed, yawning and rubbing at his tired eyes as he shuffled into the kitchen and sat at the table.

"Good morning, duckling." Marie smiled at him and ruffled his hair as she set a plate of pancakes down in front of him. "Did you sleep well, love?"

Greg nodded. "Yup. How long until Da arrives?" he asked eagerly.

"About…" She looked over at the clock on the wall. "Fourteen hours. It'll pass by before you know it, darling. You'll see." Marie assured him, kissing the top of his head.

Ryan came down to the breakfast table a few minutes later, closely followed by the twins, Jack and Matt. When their mother gave them their pancakes, Greg offered to cut them up for the twins. Ryan was already seven, so he could cut his own pancakes but the twins were only three, and since Greg was nine and the oldest, he wanted to be the best big brother possible and help them out. His mother thanked him, ruffling his hair as she sat down to eat her own breakfast. Halfway through, there was a knock at their door.

"I'll get it!" Greg exclaimed, hopping up and running over to the door. In his mind, it was his father at the door, arriving early to surprise them. He had done it before, so he wouldn't be all too surprised. He skidded on his socks, stopping just in front of there and pulling it open. He had already opened his mouth, ready to exclaim 'Da!' and jump up to hug him. It only took him a moment, though, that it was not his father at the door, but another man in uniform, with a grim expression on his face. Greg's tenth birthday was a week away and Christmas was two weeks away when the Lestrade household received a knock no one wanted at their door.

**A/N: Well! That was a bit of a depressing ending, huh? Sorry about that. I did warn you that depressing things were coming though :P And since things between Mycroft and Greg are going pretty okay as well, I wouldn't get too comfortable with that, either… ;) So, yeah, there was that little flashback drabble at the end. Did you like it? I've been thinking of putting them up every couple of chapters (Usually it'll be a full length chapter plus a drabble. This one wasn't like that for the same reason it took me so long to update, which is a bit of a long story, but if anyone wants to know I'd be glad to share so just ask :P) Thanks for all the follows, reviews, kudos, etc. Merry Christmas! :D**


	10. In Which They Go To a Lake

**Chapter 10**

A few days later, when the week came to a close, Greg was still giddy from saying 'I love you'. This was all new to him. Back home, he'd had a reputation for sleeping around quite a bit, bit it had never been anything like this. Those encounters had all been one night stands, more often than not fueled by copious amounts of alcohol. With Mycroft it was different. He felt stupid butterflies in his stomach when he was around the other boy, sometimes he wanted nothing more than to just hold his hand or cuddle, and there was always a feeling of content when he was with Mycroft. With the people back home, they'd seldom shared introductions before going off to bed. It hadn't been about intimacy or the caring, it had just been about the sex.

With Mycroft, it was different. He hadn't even seen Mycroft shirtless, yet. It didn't matter. He didn't want just a casual shag or a blowjob against the bathroom counter or anything like that. He just wanted Mycroft. It was strange and new to Greg. It felt a bit like the feeling his mother described whenever she talked about the time she'd spent with his father. It seemed a bit surreal to think that he was falling in love. It had been the last thing he'd expected when he'd arrived at Eton for the first time. He spent all his time day dreaming about Mycroft like some stupid schoolgirl and, really, he didn't mind one bit. However, if he found himself accidentally thinking that Greg Holmes or Mycroft Lestrade sounded perfect together, Greg was sure he'd go mad.

The week passed by quickly enough. Mycroft showed up to all the meals now, though he usually didn't eat, much to Greg's concern. Quinn, Ross, and Thomas had been having their meals at the same table more often now. Mycroft didn't really talk to them, but he didn't complain either. Greg was hoping that eventually, the five of them could be friends. From what he could tell, Mycroft hadn't really had any friends before Greg had come to school and if there was anything he could do to change that, then Greg would try his hardest to do so. Plans had been made Thursday night to head to a nearby lake for a few hours on Saturday afternoon. Mycroft hadn't been the most excited for it, but he hadn't complained at the table because he hadn't wanted to be rude and later, in Greg's dorm room, Greg had managed to convince him that it wasn't a horrible idea and that Mycroft should tag along.

Friday and Saturday morning had passed by quickly enough. Quinn, Ross, and Thomas were meant to show up at their floor later at noon so they could head over to the lake. Greg had dressed in shorts - it was still surprisingly warm for mid October - and a Fall out Boy t-shirt with a pair of plain, black Vans. He couldn't exactly dress like he did back home, but he figured a band t-shirt wouldn't be too far out there. A quick look out the window told him that it was one of those rare, sunny days in England, and he grabbed his sunglasses, heading out his room and moving over to Mycroft's dorm a quarter of an hour before noon. He knocked on the door, going in when Mycroft indicated it was okay. Greg smiled, leaning forward to give him a chaste kiss after closing the door behind him.

"You look nice," Mycroft said, giving him a quick look over. "I don't think I've ever seen you in anything other than long trousers or football shorts. It's a nice in between."

"And you are in trousers and a dress shirt." Greg pointed out, raising an eyebrow. "Honestly, who wears trousers and a dress shirt to a lake?"

Mycroft rolled his eyes. "It's too cold to swim either way, so I don't see the point in dressing as if I were going to."

"You're no fun." Greg complained, strewing himself across Mycroft's bed with his feet dangling off the bed. "Obviously, I don't plan on swimming, either, but half the reason I agreed that it was a good idea was so I could see more of your legs."

Mycroft turned bright red. "You could have just asked, you know? No need to make up some absurd excuse."

There was a knock at the door and Greg hopped up to his feet. "Well, no time to argue now. I'll just have to wrangle you into shorts some other time." He gave Mycroft a quick kiss before moving over to open the door. "Hey, Thomas." he greeted, giving his friend a warm smile. "Quinn and Ross are downstairs, yeah?"

Thomas nodded in confirmation before the three of them started heading downstairs. Quinn and Ross were waiting by the entrance and they shared a brief greeting before starting to walk over to Quinn's car. Ross sat up front in the passenger seat, Quinn drove, and the remaining three piled into the backseat. Greg sat perhaps a bit too close to Mycroft, pressing their thighs together, but no one noticed. And if they did, they mercifully chose not to comment on it.

Mycroft was quiet the entire ride, still feeling a bit uncomfortable with the other boys. Greg more than made up for Mycroft's silence with his rowdiness. Quinn had turned on the radio and Greg, displeased with the music playing, began singing I Write Sins Not Tragedies at the top of his lungs to drown out the radio. Mycroft looked extremely embarrassed and like he was seriously reconsidering his life choices. The other boys laughed and lowered the volume on the radio. Greg didn't really care what they thought. He just really didn't want to hear Justin Bieber on the radio.

It was a short drive. Only about ten minutes. Soon enough, Quinn had stopped the car, Thomas had slapped a hand over Greg's mouth to shut him up, and they'd stepped out of the car. Quinn and Ross set up some blankets for them to sit on and brought out an assortment of snacks while Thomas and Greg wrestled playfully near the car. Mycroft just stood awkwardly to the side until Ross came back to the car to grab a football out of the trunk.

"You don't play football, right?" he asked, hoping to start a conversation and make the poor boy feel a little less awkward.

Mycroft nodded stiffly. "Correct. It's to my understanding that the four of you do, yes? Gregory talks about football practices with you a lot."

Greg stopped trying to tackle Thomas to look up at Mycroft for a moment. "God, Mycroft, we're all friends here. No need to use your prefect talk." he said before Thomas tackled him to the ground with a successful cackle.

"Prefect talk?" Ross tried to stifle a laugh, but failed quite miserably. "Sorry, sorry. I've just never heard it described as that. It quite fits actually. No offence."

Mycroft sighed, knowing it was a battle he wouldn't win, and nodded. "It's perfectly fine." he assured him. He headed over to where Quinn was now setting up his speakers to play some music and looked down at the blankets with distaste before gingerly setting himself down on the floor and cracking open a book he was in the middle of reading.

Greg and Thomas had stopped trying to kill each other and had moved over to the blankets so they could munch on some crisps. Greg laid down across the blanket, looking up at Mycroft and his book. "What're you reading this time? Weren't you halfway through the Book Thief yesterday?"

"Yes and I finished it. Obviously," Mycroft said, putting the book down slightly so he could look at Greg. "I'm rereading To Kill a Mockingbird now."

"Are you like… naturally smart and studious or whatever? Or do you have to work for it?" Quinn asked, raising an eyebrow. Aside from Mycroft, the boys there were the type to spend their free time playing football and listening to music. The last thing they'd do with their spare time was read.

Mycroft seemed the slightest bit annoyed by the question, but answered it anyway after Greg shot him an apologetic look. "Obviously, grades have always been rather important to my father. When I was little, I had a tutor that would come over after school and give me additional lessons. It was challenging at first, but I got used to it. And now it just comes naturally."

"Don't you ever get tired of it? I mean… I imagine there are times when you just want to go out and play football or something?" Ross asked, bouncing the football he was holding up and down a bit.

"I've never been one for sports." Mycroft shook his head. "So, that's never been much of a problem for me. I'm perfectly content to stay with my books and leave the kicking balls around for you boys."

Greg gasped, horrified. "Football is way more than just kicking a ball around! It takes skill and precision and practice and hard work. Just as much hard work as your perfect grades do,"

Thomas nodded in agreement. "It's a lot harder than it looks. And I'm sure that it's way more tiring than even the longest study session. You're not running around when you're studying."

He rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say. I still think it's much easier to learn how to kick a ball around than to learn all the material needed to keep my grades up."

"Let's end this now before it ends in the four of us murdering Mycroft." Quinn suggested, shaking his head in amusement. "I think we can all reach the agreement that Mycroft is a very good student and a pretty bad football player, while we're very good football players and decent students at most."

There was a consensus amongst the five of them - with Mycroft looking a tad bit bashful at the compliment to his academic skills he nodded, which Greg found adorable - and they started talking about anything that came to mind. Briefly, they talked about celebrities which they found attractive - with Quinn and Ross agreeing on Karen Gillan while Thomas and Greg agreed on David Tennant - but Greg made sure to switch the subject as nonchalantly as possible when he noticed Mycroft shifting uncomfortably where he was sitting. He knew Mycroft was already out of his comfort zone by being here, he didn't want him to be even more uncomfortable.

The conversation moved over to football after that, and soon enough, they'd gotten to their feet and started kicking the ball around amongst themselves and laughing like idiots whilst they did so. Mycroft, of course, stayed sitting through this, with his book perched on his lap. Greg could see that his eyes strayed up towards him every few seconds though, and couldn't help but find it sweet. At some point, Greg managed to accidentally kick the ball so hard he sent it flying off towards dense trees and brushery. The boys laughed, playfully yelling at Greg that now he'd have to go get it. Greg had only chuckled, nodding and holding his hands up in surrender. He pulled Mycroft up from where he'd been sitting, declaring that he didn't want to go off to the trees alone in case he got lost, but really he just wanted a quick snog behind some trees when they were far away enough for the boys to not see them.

"You're ridiculous." Mycroft grumbled under his breath as he followed behind Greg. "I don't see why I had to come along. It's too hot to be walking."

"Maybe if you'd worn shorts and a t-shirt," Greg answered, sticking his tongue out at the boy and holding back laughter at Mycroft's pout. (Though he knew Mycroft would likely say that it was most definitely not a pout, but a very threatening, very manly scowl.)

"I don't even own a t-shirt!" he protested, rolling his eyes. Mycroft dramatically trudged along beside Greg as if they'd just spend the day hiking Everest and Greg hadn't allowed him to take a single break. They'd been walking for barely two minutes. When he spotted the football, Mycroft breathed out a sigh of relief and bent down to pick it up.

As Mycroft stood back up and started walking back towards where the other boys were, Greg pinned him up against one of the trees and pressed their lips together. Mycroft yelped in surprise before melting into the kiss, letting the football drop down behind him so he could move his arms to wrap around Greg's neck. He wrapped his arms around Mycroft's waist, pulling him closer as they kissed. They stayed like that for a few minutes and Greg would have gladly stayed like that for hours if it weren't for the snapping of a twig he heard a short distance off. Greg and Mycroft both jumped apart, reaching down for the ball and acting as though nothing had happened.

Thomas came into view and he gave them both a knowing look upon noticing their swollen lips and disheveled clothing, but didn't say anything otherwise. "Ah, you found the ball. Good. We were beginning to worry that you'd gotten lost."

Greg cleared his throat, shaking his head as he handed the ball to Thomas and ran a hand through his hair to tame it. "No, just took us a bit to find it. Here it is, though. No need to worry."

"Mmhmm. I'm sure it was soooo hard to find." Thomas agreed. He smirked, giving them another look over before turning on his heel and walking back towards where there stuff and Quinn and Ross were. "Feel free to join us again wherever."

As Thomas walked away, Mycroft and Greg exchanged guilty looks. At the same time, both of them were experiencing immense relief. Someone knew and the world hadn't ended. Everything was just the same as always. For two boys who were as far in the closet as Mycroft and Greg, knowing that everything was fine despite someone knowing was a great relief. The two boys both burst into breathless, giddy giggles, sharing one last chaste kiss before going back towards the other boys at the beach, content in the knowledge that there was still a chance that they had nothing to worry about.

**A/N: Once again, sorry about the wait. It's more or less the same excuse as last time, but I relapsed on my self harm issues and it's just been a mess, but enough about my life. I'll try to get everything handled so I can't update more often :P Thank you for being so patient! Next time, there's a pretty big guarantee that Greg's family will show up ;) Thanks for reading! **


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